


Made the noise go away

by berryvonne



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Valentine's Day, something i typed on my phone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4268502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryvonne/pseuds/berryvonne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock suddenly realises it's Valentine's day and feels the need to make it up to John. Which doesn't go to plan, of course, but when has anything in their relationship ever did?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made the noise go away

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quickie I wrote on my phone for Valentine's, but Something Happened and it's already July.
> 
> Apologising ahead for the constant switch of POVs. All mistakes are mine.

"What is up with all this...red and pink stuff anyway? It's been going on for days." Sherlock complained more to himself than John, who was alternating between jogging and power walking to catch up with the detective's long strides. Falling behind was not an option, not since John had heard a couple of girls simpering "He's always right behind him! It's so adorable." He knew Sherlock and him were a couple, but being called adorable for following your boyfriend around was A Bit Not Good. Considering he was a grown man in a relationship with another grown man. (Who behaved like a child, granted, but that wasn't the point.)

Giving his head a little shake, as if he could shake off the utter complex of being in a relationship with Sherlock Holmes, John turned back to his boyfriend, whose words were just starting to process.

"Wait, you mean you don't know?" He realised.

"I have multiple theories. The Morrisons could possibly be framed for murder because of George's disloyalty to his family, but the-"

"Sherlock, hold up. You don't know what day it is today?"

The other man cocked his head to the side, apparently clueless. "Friday?"

"First of all, it's Saturday, and I wasn't even asking about that." John shook his head. "Never mind. Forget I ever said anything. You were saying about, uh, George Morrison's disloyalty?"

"What day is it today?" Like John was the confusing one. Right.

"I said drop it," John replied in what he hoped an offhand tone. He wasn't mad or anything; it just felt a bit strange, dating someone and completely overlooking Valentine's. Usually he was one of the men buying last-minute gifts.

Instead of trying to find out more, Sherlock shifted attention to his phone. 

"I'll text Lestrade, see if he knows anything about the case."

* * *

-       Urgent. John is surprised that I have no clue what today is. Something important? SH

-       Valentine's day. Is that what he meant?

-       Valentine's? Hearts, doves, chocolate? SH

-       Not necessarily, but yeah, that one.

-       What should I do? SH

-       I don't know, you're his boyfriend. Take him to dinner or something.

-       I already take him to dinner all the time. SH

-       Well, you can try not talking about murder at the table.

Gulping, Sherlock slipped the phone back in his coat pocket and glanced at John. Valentine's Day was deleted long ago- anything he thought was useless ended up that way. No wonder John was surprised.

The Morrison case could wait. Flower bouquets, boxes of sweets, big banners announcing couple discounts all around-well. This shouldn't be too hard, he'll just take John to that Chinese restaurant they frequently go to.

But then it wouldn't be special, wouldn't it?

Maybe the fish and chips place around the corner. John liked fish and chips. It didn't seem romantic at all, though, since Valentine's Day seemed to be defined by the word.

Sherlock ran a few more possibilities through his mind and took back his previous statement. This was definitely hard. In the end he decided to go to Angelo's, somewhere he could at least play a little connections. Plan ahead. He liked planning ahead.

 

He'd surprise John, of course, make it look like he pretended not to know it was Valentine's all along.

"You hungry?" He turned to ask, quite casually, his boyfriend. (He had to admit he really liked the word. Boyfriend. Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend. He liked it almost as much as he liked John's name.)

"Me? Well, not really. What did Lestrade say about the Morrison's?"

"Nothing of importance. Listen, John," Sherlock paused. "I was thinking, uh, if youwouldliketohavedinnerwithme."

"What?" The other man looked up at him, positively trying not to laugh. "Sure. Of course. Who else would I go with?"

"Okay. Good." That was how ordinary people did it, wasn't it? Asking someone out.

"Sherlock, is this supposed to be a date?"

"According to you years ago, a date is where two people who like each other go out and have fun, so technically we've been dating for years."

John flushed. "When did I say that?"

"The case of...what was it you called on your blog? The Chinese one."

"The...blind banker?"

"Yes, that. You had a thing with-"

"Someone, no doubt." John waved it off. "So this is a date, then."

"If that's what you want to call it."

"Pretentious git. Where are we going?"

"Angelo's."

"Oh, okay. Right. Reckon he'll get a candle this time?"

Something told Sherlock to take John's hand, which he did, equally surprised at himself as his the latter. Slowly, slowly, the detective laced his fingers through the other man's.

"Sherlock Holmes, you big charmer, you." A chuckle beside him, John squeezing his hand a little.

"Shut up." It was Sherlock's turn to blush.

* * *

"Ah, the lovely couple!"

"Nice to meet you too, Angelo." Sherlock was pulled into a hug by the boss.

"Now, anything special for you boys on this special day?"

"We're not here for...the special day." John gave a very forceful look to Angelo, who picked up the hint and left.

"What special day?"

"Just...nothing." He turned to Sherlock. "Now, you eat, alright?"

"But it's Saturday."

"I don't care. Eat something. Doctor's orders." Strangely enough, the word order always had some sort of effect on Sherlock.

They were halfway into their food when Angelo informed them there was a gentleman for Mr. Holmes. John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, who returned with a bouquet of roses in hand.

“They’re for you.”

“Oh no, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” Sherlock shrugged.

They had a silent stare-down until John held up his hands. “All right. Mind telling me what’s this all about? The flowers? Lunch? The hand thing?”

Sherlock blinked. “This is where we ate together for the first time.”

“I know that, Sherlock.” John snorted. “Bummed when you said you were married to your work.”

“Obviously. I thought you had given up hope after that.”

“I tried to.” Dating people. That was all his love life seem to consist of then, dating someone new and having Sherlock ruin every single relationship- frankly, he hadn’t cared. Not a bit.

“Well,” Sherlock’s gaze shifted to their intertwined hands- not sure how that happened. “That was stupid.”

“We were stupid, Sherlock.” Then, after a pause, “you’re being very...different today.”

“Implying I am ordinary on other days.”

“That’s not what I meant. You’re being very...not Sherlock.”

Sherlock knitted his eyebrows together. ”I don’t even know what’s that supposed to mean.”

John rolled his eyes. “Because you’re an idiot.”

* * *

Mycroft should’ve brought an umbrella instead of flowers, Sherlock thought as they watched the rain at the door of Angelo’s- not cats and dogs, just the normal London drizzle. He thought back to the note attached to the roses-

_Your friend Lestrade has informed me of the unfortunate situation. Send the good doctor my greetings. MH_

It was unlike his brother to show compassion, but Sherlock supposed- as John had put it- he wasn’t being himself either.

“You wanna...wait ‘til the rain stops?”

“Got an idea,” Sherlock took off his coat. John’s eyes widened in disbelief when he draped it over the two of them.

“This is your coat.”

“Brilliant observation, John.”

“No. Your coat. Your coat you can’t even let dust get on.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, it’s raining. Come on.”

They trudged through, John holding the roses in one hand. “Going home, then?”

“Ye-p,” Sherlock replied. Then, after some silence: “I suppose there’s something you need to know.”

“Hmm?”

“I am aware that today is Valentine’s Day, and-” He was interrupted by a stifled laugh. “What?”

“No, you bloody didn’t.”

“I-”

“Go on.”

“I chose not to celebrate it because the idea that one should demonstrate more love through actions like giving flowers and chocolate is ridiculous.”

“You gave me roses.”

“They were from Mycroft!”

“And brought me to the first place we ate.”

“I was trying to fit in, John.”

The doctor smirked. “Why would I love Sherlock Holmes if he was like everyone else?”

The comment took Sherlock aback in its sincerity. He cleared his throat a little before he went on. 

“You must excuse me for not being aware if...if that’s what you want to do, celebrating every February 14.”

“Alright.” John nodded, still vaguely amused.

“What I’m trying to say, John,” Sherlock took a deep breath for what might as well be the cheesiest line ever uttered. “Is everyday already feels like Valentine’s day to me.”

* * *

John Watson stopped abruptly in his tracks, staring at the taller man beside him. He wondered if he heard wrong.

“No, you heard me perfectly well.” Sherlock said, a sort of defiance in his eyes that said _so sue me._

“Sherlock.” John exhaled deeply. “That was. Um. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Even though you were quoting some romance novels.”

“I was speaking the truth.”

“You’re bloody romantic, is what you are. Sociopath my complete arse.”

Perhaps it was the way he said it that got Sherlock's eyes to crinkle. John's lips tipped upward too, and there they stood for an absurdly long amount of time, looking at each other through smiling eyes. 

“You did it for me, John,” Sherlock murmured, adjusting the coat so it covered both of them better. “You did it. You made the noise go away.”

John closed his eyes as he felt a pair of lips pressing on his forehead. “You got rid of the silence,” he told his boyfriend, and meant it. “Now, let’s go home, shall we?”

Mrs. Hudson didn’t have the heart to tut about the mud her boys had left on the floor. After all, it was Valentine’s day.


End file.
